Hiker's journey comes up short on distance, but not on memorable moments, life lessons

Hiker's journey comes up short on distance, but not on memorable moments, life lessons

By Lynn McNutt

March 30, 2014

Publication: Florida Times-Union, The: Web Edition Articles (Jacksonville, FL)

Word Count: 1283

My mother, who was in a nursing home at the time, saved all the papers. Of course.

__________________

My hike is over. I made it almost halfway.

The pain in my left calf, which I dismissed as a pulled muscle, increased to an unbearable level that landed me in the hospital. I had a very large blood clot that ran from mid-thigh to mid calve. It broke off and got into my lungs. This was bad. Really bad. Had I not made it to the hospital exactly when I did my raccoon-ravaged remains would have made quite a spectacular article for the Florida Times-Union. I might even have made the front page.

I’m a bit devastated, and I sincerely apologize to others who have been counting on me to finish. I will finish the Florida Trail someday as it’s truly a treasure of this state.

But it will not be a thru-hike, and it might take me many years of weekend trips, but that’s just the way it is. On some small level, I feel like I prepared for the Olympics then broke my leg in the opening ceremony.

We are always searching for a reason why things happen in our lives. Moments of luck, coincidence and serendipity tend to soothe and persuade us that we are on the right path. Moments of misfortune, and bad luck baffle us and lead us to think we are doing something wrong.

Then there is the thought that in our lives, for good or for bad, —— just happens. But I am too cowardly and too egotistical to believe that my singular life means so little in this universe that there is no plan for it.

It comforts me to believe that there is a plan, a reason, a lesson or a path that I must experience to get to where I need to be physically, morally, spiritually so I can...what?...move on?...achieve a higher plane of consciousness?... be better a person?...fit in with all the goody goodies in heaven? I don’t know, maybe I just need to stop eating these wild trail mushrooms and thinking so much.

The reasons for taking on this hike that I mentioned in my very first article still remain valid: being present, having an adventure, loving Florida, losing weight, clearing my head, etc.

However, I did not mention grief. Trying to keep the article light I left off an important truth. I lost my niece, who was a little sister to me, to brain cancer, my father to leukemia, my mother to a nursing home and for the past six years, I have been a primary caregiver to all of them.

I had gained 80 pounds and really just didn’t give a damn about anything anymore. So grief was my secret reason. I needed to walk it off, and a jaunt around the neighborhood just wouldn’t do the trick.

My father, niece and I were always fascinated by the Florida Trail. A three-month, 1,100-mile hike through our beloved Florida — that should do the trick. So, my adventure took root.

In my first article I mentioned that adventures don’t solve problems, but they can help silence the white noise clutter and give the mind a clearer perspective on things. This clarity revealed a deep-down motivation for this hike. It was fear.

After and along with the grief, I was scared to death of being alone. I am not married, I don’t have children and my entire family is practically gone. I think my first inkling of clarity hit me in the hospital in Winter Park. I was asked who my emergency contact was. I stared dumbly at the nurse, then burst into tears wailing, “I don’t know anymore!” Now granted I was in extreme pain and jacked up with morphine, but that thought shot straight through me.

I did a lot of crying in that hospital. I cried because my hike was over, I cried because of the pain, I cried because I almost died, I cried because my family was rude enough to be dead and not at my bedside, I cried because after hiking over 400 miles I couldn’t walk, and I cried because I felt scared and alone.

I was having one helluva pity party. I should have had it catered. I had plenty of Percocet to go around.

After a while, I just couldn’t cry anymore. I started thinking about my hike and all that happened. I tried to run it in my head like a movie. The diverse landscapes and wildlife I experienced were amazing and thrilling. I was proud of surviving the swamp, living in a tent, peeing in the woods and not getting lost.

But what really stuck out in my dream movie were the people I had met. Call it what you will — serendipity, coincidence or good luck — but when I really needed something, someone was always there to provide it, whether it was a ride, food, water, encouragement, advice, shelter, company, laughs, wisdom or a bit of trail magic.

With each of these people I had felt a strong bond. Like they had been put on my path for a reason. And thinking about these complete strangers, I started to feel very blessed and not quite so alone anymore. I was actually in very good company.

My journey to the hospital was serendipitous for sure. I had really bad luck followed by really, really good luck. I had called a friend in Orlando on a Thursday to say I would be near her and maybe she could pick me up on Saturday for a day and night of warm bed, hot food and clean laundry.

She was thrilled, as just five minutes prior she had canceled her weekend plans, so she was available. My leg ached but I was not in extreme pain yet.

In the middle of the night at her home my leg hurt so badly that I knew something was very wrong and I needed to get to the hospital. Her husband was supposed to drive me back to the trail that morning. Had she not been able to pick me up or had my leg not gotten worse that exact night I was with them, I would have been on the trail, and I would have been trail mix. But I wasn’t.

Good friends from Tallahassee also just happened to be going to Orlando the weekend I was being released from the hospital and came and got me and took me to their house to recoup. Someone was there just when I needed them.

So why did everything lead me to hike this trail only to have everything lead me off the trail? Maybe my trail led me to that hospital room so I would realize that I’m going to be just fine. That I’m still on a journey just without a guidebook and orange blazes to lead the way. And that on this journey I’m not alone.

That in addition to the most amazing friends in the world, there are amazing strangers in the world that pop up at the most needed moments. That no man really is an island. We all have a connection if we allow people to connect to us. Or maybe, —— just happens.

Not every outside adventure is as sappy as mine or as revealing, but getting outside, being active and being completely present in nature is necessary to living. Maybe not surviving but definitely living. There’s so much more to discover about Florida, our planet and ourselves, if we take the film off our brains: the TV screen film, the cell phone and text film and the window shield film. Just taking a walk around the block dusts off the brain.

My next adventure, hopefully next year, is going to be kayaking the Shark River in the ten thousand islands. There are these platforms above the water that you camp on every fifteen miles or so.

I have everything I need except the kayak. It should only take a few weeks.

My reason for going? It’ll be fun.